


My Eyes Wander to You

by azureheavens



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, One Shot, Pets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureheavens/pseuds/azureheavens
Summary: Drabble collection about Claude and Hilda, updated whenever I have time or ideas.1) Hilda decided she liked hearing Claude talk. Or rather, watching him talk.2) She didn’t mean to wake him up. It was just that his arms tucked beneath his head looked like a pillow made just for her.3) “Nah, he’s just a charmer. I’ve never met him before, and yet we’re fast friends? He wants something from me."4) Well, of course he had a choice, but this way was much more entertaining.5) “If you’re telling me that Hilda Valentine Goneril gets stage fright, I’ll eat Failnaught.”
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 113





	1. Look Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Twitter btw @kriselii

Hilda’s conversations with Claude ranged through several different topics: gossip about the professors, stories from their own lives, or any and every strange fact about Garreg Mach Monastery. Claude would animatedly talk about this and that, but Hilda would just nod along. Often it would go over her head: why worry about these small, less useful details? Sure, she could see why he’d be fascinated, but why let herself get hung up when she could relax instead? In the end, Hilda decided she liked hearing him talk.

Or rather _watching_ him talk.

There was always a devil-may-care air about him, one where convention was thrown to the wayside. Casual, confident, curious. Chatting with him was a performance, his body language fun and engaging. The sweep of his hands pantomiming the tales he wove. The sudden passion when he stumbled on some new idea mid-sentence. The quirk of his lips with a secret epiphany. Oh, his ever-smiling lips.

Part of it wasn’t real, though. His eyes never lost their edge, even when he laughed and joked. Quick to follow any sound or sight out of place. His words welcomed you in, almost too strange to be true, but his eyes kept as many secrets as they sought out.

Eyes green like a garden peeking through a polished gate, or a jade pendant locked away in a finely carved chestnut box. No matter how hard Hilda looked, she could only see the locks. His closely guarded truths slipping out of her grasp like rich emerald silk.

“…Lost in thought? Should I call for help?”

Hilda blinked. “Hm? Sorry, Claude, you were repeating yourself.”

Claude raised a brow. “Was I? Or were you just not listening to me?”

“Have some faith in me!” Hilda stopped leaning her chin on her hands, sitting up straight again. “I was _trying_ to pay attention, but like I said, you were repeating yourself.”

“Strange. I haven’t mentioned this particular theory about the Four Saints to you before.”

“Well, maybe not,” She said, smoothing a few flyaway hairs from her pigtails. “But you’ve gone on and on about it before, so you may as well have repeated yourself.”

“Ah, Hilda.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Hilda, Hilda, Hilda… You would do well to listen to me. Though I am young in years, I can give great wisdom, you know.”

She pursed her lips. “Wisdom? You mean like switching Professor Hanneman’s research notes with pages from a used coloring book?”

Claude sat back and placed a hand went to his chest, mock offended. “That ended with you getting out of extra lessons for two months. I distinctly remember you thanking me.”

Hilda giggled quietly, biting her lip. “Hmm, no? I think I would remember something like that.”

With a shake of his head, Claude redirected the conversation back to his ideas. Hilda settled her head back on her hands, eyeing him. There was a lot she didn’t really understand about him. Why she’d grown so fond of just watching him? When did it start before she realized it?

In the end, she wasn’t in a rush. He would seek out the mysteries of the world all he wanted, but Hilda would be satisfied uncovering the mysteries of Claude von Riegan.


	2. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be for Valentines, but love has no expiration date. Here’s some established relationship time skip fluff

She didn’t mean to wake him up. The calm wind pulled on his hair as he napped in the shade of a pine, his jacket folded beneath his head. He really did look peaceful, eyes closed, head rolling to the side. It was just that his arms tucked beneath his head looked like a pillow made just for her.

Hilda smiled to herself, lay down silently, and curled against him on the cool green grass. Claude didn’t stir. She snuggled closer, laying an arm across his chest as she often did. Sometimes they would indulge in sleeping in together after they just woke, but this morning was a busy one. An afternoon nap was a welcome trade off now that things had finally calmed down.

The wind whistled through the branches overhead, the sun painting spots on their clothes. Claude’s body heat staved off the chill breeze, the rise and fall of his chest lulling her to sleep. Satisfied, Hilda closed her eyes.

And immediately squeaked when Claude rolled over and pinned her beneath him. He let out a gaping yawn, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling his face into her neck. 

“Claaaude,” she whined. “You’re squishing-“

He muffled the rest of her protests with his lips. Hilda pouted into his kiss, letting him have his fun in the end.

He pulled her in even tighter, sighing contentedly. At last he pulled away, gazing at her through sleepy green eyes. “Oh… Hey there, Hilda.”

“Hi, Claude,” she said plainly. “Did you really just kiss me in your sleep?”

“Did I? That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Maybe not, but you did,” Hilda playfully narrowed her eyes. “Let me guess: You were dreaming? Of having the world’s most amazing, beautiful woman sleeping by your side?”

Claude rolled to his side, freeing her, but still keeping an arm behind her waist. He looked as if he might fall back asleep at any moment, but he kept his eyes on her. “Actually, I wasn’t dreaming at all, I think. But then I woke up and,” he said with a shrug. “You were there.”

Ah, a perfect, lazy excuse. With Hilda being an expert in those, she approved. “Talk about an improvement.”

Claude smiled warmly. “Huge improvement.” She smiled back as he leaned back in, their smiles fitting together with their kiss. Warm breath and a sweet touch. Claude’s hand brushed her cheek as he threaded her fingers through her hair. He smelled criminally good for not wearing any cologne. “You know,” He said between kisses. “That dream you mentioned? I have it nearly every night.”

Hilda hummed in response against his lips. “Tell me about her then.”

He chuckled softly. “Let’s see… She’s amazing.” A kiss. “She’s beautiful.” Another kiss, longer this time.

Soon she realized Claude wasn’t breaking the kiss any time soon. “And?” She asked.

“Do I really need words if this says it all?”

Hilda playfully whacked his arm. “That’s no fair, though! I want to hear more about me.”

Claude chuckled again as if he had some secret she wasn’t ready to hear. She ignored him kissed him with finality. She traced her fingers up his collarbone and neck, cupping his cheek.

Let the rest of the world fade away. Leave nothing left but his arms around her, and her lips on his.


	3. Best Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever wanted your favs to just pet a dog? Well, I've got the drabble for you!
> 
> Also you should check out the shipping week for these two! Hosted on twitter, it goes from June 7-13. I'm working on new fics for it! https://twitter.com/Hilclaudeweek

“Aww just look at you! Aren’t you just the handsomest boy!”

Claude leaned over the stone railing to peer at the stone cobble below. There were always well-behaved strays on patrol by the docks, waiting for any generous fisherman to share their catch. He was surprised to find Hilda crouched by a dog with white fur excitedly wagging his brown patched tail. “Uh oh, looks like your ear flopped inside out.” She scratched the handsomest boy under his chin and righted the ear with a pat. “There, isn’t that better?”

The dog agreed enthusiastically with several very wet kisses across her face. Hilda squeaked and winced under the canine’s generosity. “Nope! No! Stop it, spot that right now…!”

Claude cupped his hand over his mouth. “What’s wrong? Can’t the young knight express his thanks to the maiden that saved him?”

Hilda pulled free and gaped up at him. The dog followed her gaze, giving Claude his best doggy smile. He waved to them both. “Evening.”

She pouted. “Stop saying weird things! Wouldn’t you rather visit with me and my new friend?”

He absolutely _would_ rather, and it took all his will power not to leap over the ledge to join them. Instead, he took the scenic route, jogging down the stairs before leisurely rounding the corner. The dog pranced in place, fighting every fiber in his being to not abandon Hilda in favor of his new guest.

This one was a schmoozer, and Claude was a _sucker_. Beaming, he plopped to his knees and held out his hands. The dog launched himself and threw his paws on his shoulders, hot fragrant breath bearing down on him. Grinning back, Claude ruffled the dog’s ears in both hands, wholly sure he discovered what Heaven should be like.

“Aw, he loves you!” Hilda cooed, kneeling beside the happy couple.

Claude shrugged, now covered in soggy doggy kisses. “Nah, he’s just a charmer. I’ve never met him before, and yet we’re fast friends? He wants something from me.”

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Only you would think that. He’s sweet! See?” She ran her nails down the back of his furry little skull. The dog rolled his eyes back with pure happiness. “Look at that gorgeous smile.”

Claude looked at Hilda with new respect. “I didn’t expect you to be big on dogs.”

“Oh, my family has a bunch of puppies to help our soldiers on their patrols. They’re big softies, just like him.”

“Puppies?” Claude raised a brow. “Don’t you mean hardened warriors tasked with defending our most heavily guarded mountain range?”

Hilda smiled pointedly. “They’re _still_ puppies. Isn’t that right, little guy?” She scooted in closer to get his attention, but the dog recoiled, still attached to Claude. Defeated, she pouted.

“…Hold on now.” Claude cupped the handsomest boy’s face in his hands, staring deep into those soulful brown eyes. “Could it be? Hilda is jealous of us?”

She gave him a flat stare, but that was all the proof Claude needed. “I thought you said he was trying to use you,” she said.

“I did say that, but I was wrong.” He took a deep breath, ready to bear his true feelings. “Knowing him as I do now, I think I just met my best friend for life. One who will stay by my side with unyielding support. Together, we-!”

Suddenly the dog popped up at attention and twisted to look behind him. In a flash, he darted away to join a growing throng of dogs and cats to surround a tall blue-haired man dressed in all black. Teach. Startled but not thrown, he dropped whole fishes from his pockets to the glee of his furry entourage. Including Claude’s once best friend.

“…Uh.” Claude stammered.

Slowly, Hilda turned to him, biting back her laughter.

Claude held up a finger. “Don’t.”

“I would never!” She cried, grinning ear to ear.

Humiliated, Claude slumped his shoulders. “I thought he and I had _real_ connection…”

Hilda sighed, shaking her head. She popped to her feet and hoisted him up by the arm. “Come on, mopey! Let’s greet the professor with a big smile! You’ll feel better.”

Claude’s feet shuffled over the cobbles, milking his misery for all it was worth. “I was going to name him Marth… He’s a legendary hero-king I just read about in the library… But now, I…”

Hilda patted his back warmly, leaning against his shoulder. “There there, tough guy. We’ll find someone for you yet.”


	4. I Must Confess

When Ignatz told him that Claude could find Hilda in the classroom, he almost didn’t believe him. But there she was, sitting in the empty room at a desk with ink and paper. Every other time he found her here she was working on a letter to her brother, so this had to be more of the same. 

“The never-ending grind of letters to home,” Claude declared as walked to her side, but Hilda didn’t look up. “That you keep up with your replies proves what a devoted and hardworking sister you are. You must have the luckiest big brother in the Alliance.” 

Hilda’s lips twitched a centimeter. She kept writing. 

“Actually, I’m glad you’re here,” said Claude. “There’s something I need to ask you.” He peered over her shoulder for a moment. Just a glance, nothing more. She always said she never wrote anything important in her letters. Regardless, Hilda shifted her body to block his view. 

...Fair was fair, but she didn’t usually ignore him. He waved a hand in her face. “Hilda? Hello?” 

Hilda sat up a little taller, scribbling away. Her expression was even and pensive, a bit too fake by her standards. She didn’t even stop to complain about Holst actually being the biggest “bother” in the Alliance. Claude frowned, shaking his head. To get her attention, it looks like he had no choice. 

Well, of course he had a choice, but this way was much more entertaining. 

Quietly, Claude sat next to Hilda with his back to the table. He perched his elbow next to hers, leaned in close, lowered his voice to an earnest whisper. “Hilda... I’m in love with you. I’ve _always_ been in love with you.” Silence filled the classroom. No complaint was as good as permission to continue. “Ever since I first gazed into those... inexplicably pink eyes, I knew it. Even more, I _feel_ it now. I don’t know why I suddenly have the courage to tell you, but...” 

Hilda didn’t glance at him, but she stiffened to hold back a laugh. Her pen scratched faster, intent on ignoring him. 

Claude didn’t surrender. He went on, this time even more desperate. “Of course, I know this crush is pointless. What chance do I have? Me, the mysterious outsider to inherit House Riegan. You, the beloved little sister of the most feared and respected general in Fodlan. Dare I say, even beyond...! But despite all this, I’m drawn to you, Hilda. Because I-!” 

Hilda delicately slammed down her pen and folded her hands on the desk. She turned and stared at Claude. 

“Oh, good! You’re listening. See, what I _actually_ wanted to say was-” 

Before he could finish, Hilda was on her feet with letter in hand. She smiled pointedly at him, unoffended but unappreciative. “Thank you, Claude,” she cooed, “for being so honest about your feelings for me. But I’m just not looking for any sort of relationship right now. You understand, don’t you?” 

Claude stared, slack-jawed, at her. Sure, he didn’t mean a word of it, but to hear _that_ bearing his whole heart? “Hilda! That was the soundest rejection I have ever gotten. My bleeding heart is broken!” Then he sprawled back against the table, clutching the hole in his chest. 

“Oh, calm down.” Hilda dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I could tell you were just being dramatic as always. You just don’t seem like to the type for such a bold declaration.” 

Claude shot back a wounded glare. “You don’t know that. You don’t know the deepness of my heart. Why I bet I have secrets you couldn’t even begin to fathom.” 

“I’m sure you do! Not like you’d share them with me.” Then Hilda pursed her lips, giving a small shrug. “Well, if you ever feel like being serious about these ‘feelings’ of yours, just maybe I’ll listen. I make no promises, though.” 

“Oh, naturally.” Claude righted himself with a shrug. He steepled his fingers like he was ready to debate. “Young as we are, things like romance can change at the drop of a hat. Although an Alliance bolstered by tying the Goneril and Riegan lines together would be strategic, wouldn’t it?” 

Hilda gave him a skeptical look. “We already _have_ an alliance of sorts! We’re friends now, aren’t we?” 

Claude considered it, then smiled. “That we are, Hilda. That we are.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a twitter poll about who would say I love you first. Claude won. This drabble may or may not have been inspired by it.


	5. Melody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A drabble before I throw myself into NaNoWriMo. No one ever talks about how Hilda likes to sing, so I had to try something…

It was a song from the corner of Hilda’s mind. Maybe a melody that the professor had her sing for choir way, _way_ back in the day. It was slow and worshipful... But a little boring, honestly. Speeding it up by half let her use it to entertain herself during chores, and soon enough she could hum it during any old time, dancing a little where she stood.

She thought she had forgotten it. Harder since it was impossible to find some decent idle time in the middle of a war.

_Guess I’m in a pretty good mood._

She softly slid open her drawer in Claude’s room to find her hairbrush. She was already dressed, and with it well past midnight, she wasn’t worried about running into anyone. Behind her, Claude slept with his arm over the spot she used to lay in, his chest rising and falling. Meager candlelight framed the edges of a peaceful frown, as if he puzzled out a riddle he uncovered in his dreams.

_Or something like that, huh?_ Hilda smiled. She didn't feel bad about leaving, since it wouldn't surprise him. The same thing happened every time they spent the night together. After enough practice she, or he, didn’t have to scramble out of the other’s room before daylight breached the horizon. They knew the schedule of the entire monastery by now. No rush, no fuss.

And if anyone had caught on about their relationship, they kept it to themselves.

With slow strokes, Hilda hummed softly as she brushed her hair. Barely a breath, trying to not hold the note. Claude was a light sleeper, so anything could wake him, but surely this wasn’t _too_ loud. As the brush’s tongs sifted through her, tingles shot to her scalp. She savored the feeling. Soon enough she was humming louder, swaying in time to her song.

“That sounds pretty.” Claude’s voice was low. She almost didn’t hear it, hidden beneath her own. “Did you make it up?”

Biting her lip, Hilda glanced behind her, still running the brush through her hair. “In a way,” she murmured. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t apologize. I was awake when you got up.” Claude stretched and rolled onto his back, absentmindedly pushing back his hair. The muscles on his bare chest caught the light too, and now Hilda wished she was back in bed. “But I mean it, that was nice to listen to. I don’t remember hearing you sing before.”

“I was just humming, not singing.”

“Either way,” he insisted, “you have a pretty voice, Hilda.”

Hilda blushed and set down the brush, running her fingers through her hair for good measure. “Why, thank you…! But it’s not like I could star in an opera or anything. Too many people in the crowd like that.”

Claude huffed a laugh. “If you’re telling me that Hilda Valentine Goneril gets stage fright, I’ll eat Failnaught.” Through the mirror, she could see him roll back on his side, propping his head on his hand. He watched her with a drowsy smile, an unmistakable spark underlying his green eyes. “Okay then, not a crowd. Would you sing just for me? I promise to be a gracious audience.”

Hilda glanced away, warmth lighting her chest. “You’re making it hard to say no, you know… But maybe some other time? It _is_ late.”

Claude paused, then drew in a slow breath, nodding. “Some other time. But watch out: you just made me a promise. I don’t forget those easily.”

With a quick glance over her shoulder, Hilda turned and walked back to the bed. She placed her hand over his free one, leaning with a curtain of pink over her shoulder. “Me neither.” She winked. “So I guess if I absolutely have to sing for you, you need to give me time to prepare. I know I’m not Dorothea-”

“I wasn’t asking for her,” Claude said. He squeezed her hand, dropping the other from his head so he could sit up and look her in the eye. “But if you want to bring her up, I suppose she has some talent.”

“Wait, ‘some talent?’ That’s it?” Hilda giggled, shaking her head. She leaned in closer. “Are you not cultured at all?”

“I try not to be.” Claude shrugged. He kept his face neutral though they were inches apart. “Strictly on principle. I find it distracts too much from the more important things.”

Her eyes flicked from his green to the curve of his lips. “Liar.”

Claude smirked, caught in the truth. Then she caught that smirk in her lips, using the same lightness as her earlier humming. She didn’t want to keep him up, only to say goodbye. But once they began, kissing only became easier and easier. Soon Hilda felt the brush of his fingers against her cheek, trailing past her ear, teasing the roots of her hair. She dipped her tongue past his lips just to tease him, but the lightest touch stirred the song in her heart, rumbling into a crescendo.

“You know,” Claude muttered. His lips never left hers. “If you keep kissing me, you might as well stay.”

Hilda hummed, savoring the prickling anticipation. She pulled her mouth away, leaving their foreheads pressed. “No, I need to save something for next time. If I stay, what if you get bored of me?”

“As if you could bore me.” In the same breath he spoke, he pulled her in **.** Hilda’s knees buckled as he kissed her hard, his tongue danced against hers. Her heartbeat drummed with a frantic beat, falling in line with his. Like before, it was easy. Easy to forget about time, propriety, even breathing. Hilda soon realized how little she cared about all the above. She only cared about…

“Oh, Claude…” She whispered, leaned further into over him. “Claude, no…” She cupped his face in her hands, drinking him in. “We shouldn’t…”

His laugh rumbled against her ribs when she climbed back on top of him, when he scooped her up and rolled her into the center of his bed. The blankets pressed between them, her arms clinging to his bare and muscled back, his fingers trailing through her hair like it was the finest silk. Warmth filled her every inch of her, and every kiss called back that melody she could never, ever, ever grow sick of.

Suddenly, _he_ was humming. A loud, boisterous, cacophonic excuse of a song. She felt him smile against her lips, obviously doing it on purpose.

Hilda pushed away and playfully glared. “Really?” she asked, nose scrunched up at him. _“Really?”_

Claude snickered with a grin, his hands sliding down to her hips. The candlelight turned his handsome features into something more roguish. “Guess I’ll leave the singing to you.”


End file.
